The Others
by brokenmoonlight
Summary: When the van breaks down in the middle of nowhere during a storm, Howard and Vince are forced to take shelter in an old, abandoned house. They soon realise, though, that they are not alone...
1. Prologue

**A/N: I had the sudden urge to write something creepy, which I think was inspired by seeing the trailers on TV for the film The Strangers (which I'd quite like to see, but masked people freak me out!).**

**This is the prologue, so it's not very long, but hopefully you'll like it enough to want me to continue!**

**Disclaimer: The Mighty Boosh and all affiliated characters belongs to Julian Barratt and Noel Fielding.**

**xxxx**

The sound of his barely controlled heavy breathing was all Vince could hear as he crouched behind the door of a cupboard, staring out of the carved slits in the wood with wide, terrified eyes, his fingers digging into the edge of the old door as he tried desperately to hold it shut. His heart hammered against his rib cage, his chest aching, a cold sweat dripping down his face. He wanted to hear the sound again and _never_ wanted to hear it again all at once. Hearing it would mean that they would find him – not hearing it would leave Vince too scared to ever move, just in case. But whatever he did at that moment, he knew he wouldn't be safe.

The cupboard he was in was musty, smelt faintly of old varnish, and was only just big enough to hold him. Peering out of the slits, Vince could see the window on the other side of the room. Beyond that, he could see a faint smattering of stars in the sky and the dull glow of the moon, which was mostly covered in cloud, providing almost no light in the dark room. Rain poured down, occasionally accompanied by a flash of lightning and a loud clap of thunder. Vince flicked his eyes over to the door of the room and kept them there, as frightened to look away as he was to keep watch. He trembled, frozen to the spot and trying to push down the nausea that was threatening to rise inside him.

Then he jumped.

Biting his lip to stop the scream he was holding in from escaping, and shaking violently, Vince unconsciously dug his nails into the cupboard door as he clung to it, the splinters working their way under his nails and breaking the skin, little spots of blood pooling on his flesh. The stairs outside the door to the room were creaking, the noise getting louder as the thing on the other side climbed slowly closer. Vince knew it was futile for him to pray for it to be Howard – he wasn't _that _lucky, and for all he knew, Howard could already be dead. Vince's eyes welled up at the thought of his best friend – what if they _had _already got to him? He would have died alone and terrified and... Vince shook his head. He had to focus. The house was big, but he was sure he would have heard if Howard had been...

Tears slipped silently down Vince's face, and he wanted to sniff, but he was too afraid of the noise it would make. Fighting the tight feeling in his chest that was on the verge of making him hyperventilate, he concentrated on the door, so much that even the beat of the rain against the window was silenced. The creaking stopped, and a shadow passed through the gap under the door; then it started again as it was slowly pushed open. Vince shook all the more, willing his body to let him pass out; but then they probably wouldn't be so kind as to kill him in his sleep. Was it better to get it over with rather than deal with the absolute agony of waiting? All Vince wanted to do was scream and panic, but the faint voice in the back of his head that was telling him to hold onto his life for as long as possible wouldn't let him - not even when the sound he couldn't bear to hear again escaped from the mouth of the thing now in the room; a horrible, unearthly clicking sound, a noise that came from deep at the back of the throat and sounded like it was straight from Hell.

Vince bit his lip harder until he tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. Fighting desperately to control himself as the horror outside of his little cupboard came into view, Vince channelled all his thoughts onto the one person he trusted more than anything in the world, even though he knew he was about to die, and, for a moment, he felt a little safer.

Seconds later, the cupboard door was wrenched open, and as Vince tumbled out, he looked up into glowing red eyes, and screamed.

xxxx

Armed with the largest knife he could find, Howard moved carefully along the wall he was pressed up against, knowing that the smallest noise could give him away. He'd already heard creaking from above him, and hoped with all his heart that it was Vince, because, in truth, he had no idea where Vince was. Then again, he hoped it _wasn't _Vince, because that would mean he could be found at any moment. Heart pounding in his ears, Howard continued to step forward. He felt sick and was starting to realise what it actually meant to have the life frightened out of you. But he had to find his friend; more than anything, he had to find him.

Howard's head snapped round suddenly as something scurried across the floor behind him. In the dim light he could just make out the outline of a mouse as it darted into a hole in the wall. Allowing himself to breathe a small sigh of relief, he continued on his way, his brow glistening with perspiration. He swiped at it with a muddy sleeve, the dirt leaving its mark on his face. Silently, he begged for a miracle, for someone to come in and rescue them from this place of unspeakable evil.

Pausing as he reached a corner, Howard quickly glanced around him, holding the knife close to his front as he held his breath and peered round the wall. There was nothing there, a flash of lightning briefly illuminating a hallway with dusty floorboards and a staircase at the end. Howard slipped round and made his way along it, stopping briefly to push open a door and stick his head inside what he knew to be the music room. Squeezing his eyes shut briefly, he whispered Vince's name as loud as he dared too. When he received no answer in return, he had to fight the uncontrollable urge to cry. Composing himself, he stepped back out into the hall and continued along. He knew, from common sense and from watching too many horror films, that he was potentially trapping himself if he ascended above ground level, but the fact that he was stuck in the middle of nowhere told him he was no safer wherever he was.

Howard winced as the cuts on his face stung uncomfortably, the wound on his head throbbing, and he touched it briefly, feeling the blood starting to clot. As he reached the stairs, he once again heard the creaking sound from before.

Then there was a thump and a bloodcurdling scream.

Howard yelled Vince's name, and ran.


	2. An Abandoned House

**A/N: Thank you for all your reviews. I'm really glad the first part worked and you liked it. I've never written anything like this before, so I hope I manage to make it suitably frightening and atmospheric (I know Witness was freaky, but this is going to be completely different!).**

**Onwards.**

**xxxx**

"Howard, are we nearly there?"

Howard groaned. Vince had been asking the same question over and over again for the last half hour, and if he didn't have his driving to concentrate on he probably would have strangled him by now. Staring ahead he noticed the clouds rolling dark and ominous across the sky, purple and grey and about to unleash their fury at any moment. The trees either side of the road were swaying in the wind, leaves dropping off their branches and spinning their way to the ground. Truth be told, Howard and no idea how much longer they would be travelling for. The directions they'd been given to some obscure club way outside of London seemed to be sending them on a wild goose-chase, and Howard was beginning to suspect that the whole thing had been a mega wind-up. Whatever it was, though, it wasn't funny.

"Howard?"

Howard snapped his head round to look at his friend. "No, Vince!"

Vince blinked at him before sinking down in his seat. "All right, don't get your knickers in a twist, I was only asking."

"Yes, but you've asked the same question about a million times. I'm sorry, Vince, but I haven't a clue where we are. These directions are all over the place - It's like we're going in circles."

The clouds broke then, and rain fell down in a torrent, flooding the windscreen and impairing Howard's visibility. He snapped on the wipers and took his foot off the pedal slightly; the last thing he wanted was for them to go skidding across the road and into a ditch.

"Do you think we've been had?" Vince asked dejectedly, looking out the window across the empty fields.

Howard sighed. "Yeah, I think so, little man." Then, to make his bad day even worse, the van suddenly started to splutter, and Howard was forced to pull over just as the engine died completely. Howard slammed his hands against the steering wheel. "Oh, well that's just brilliant, isn't it." He unclipped his seat-belt and reached round behind him to grab his torch from the back seat.

"Howard?"

"What?" he replied, a little harshly.

"Can I do anything to help?" Vince's voice, although concerned, was mostly calm, and it helped Howard to focus.

"Yeah, um, you can sit in my seat and start the engine when I tell you too, but don't touch anything until then." Howard popped the bonnet and opened his door, climbing out into the rain.

Vince sighed and slid over into Howard's seat. After a truly awful day of endless driving and stupid arguments fuelled by tiredness and frustration, Vince was afraid the van breaking down would send Howard into meltdown, and the last thing Vince wanted was to have a huge bust up with him. They'd been having too many of those lately, and as much as he sniped and bitched, especially when he was in defensive mode, Vince was starting to become tired of it, secretly wishing things could go back to how they'd once been. He wound the window down and called out, not wanting to lean out and get his hair wet, laughing quietly in despair at himself as he realised how shallow that was.

Howard didn't respond to him at first, his head stuck under the bonnet as he shone his torch over the innards of the van, hissing as he burnt his hand on the engine. He knew the basics of car maintenance, but he couldn't for the life of him work out what was wrong and not only that, he couldn't even see that anything _was_ wrong. He fiddled with a few wires, then leant round and shouted to Vince. "Vince! Turn the key!" The engine spluttered, groaning horribly. Howard cursed, slammed the bonnet down and walked round to the side of the van, leaning against the door. Vince stopped turning the key and looked at him expectantly.

"Can you fix it?"

Howard stared at him irritably, rain pouring down his face and soaking his clothes, hair flat against his head. "No, Vince, I can't. Shift over." He opened the door and slid in, banging it shut after him and rubbing his hands over his wet face. "Can you reach into the glove-box and pass me my breakdown card, please?" Howard pulled his phone out of his pocket, and then sat back in his seat, closing his eyes.

Vince, who now had the card in his hand, leant over and placed a hand on Howard's shoulder. "Howard?"

Howard swallowed heavily. "No signal."

Vince took out his own mobile phone, and looked at the screen; 'Emergency calls only' was written across the display. "We could ring nine-nine-nine."

Howard opened his eyes and blinked at him incredulously. "Don't be stupid. Why would they come out for a broken down van when they have actual emergencies to attend to? You know, like murders and accidents and robberies. I don't think they'd be too concerned about the fact that you have nowhere to plug in your straighteners."

Ouch.

Vince removed his hand from Howard's shoulder and hung his head, his hands wringing in his lap. "I was only trying to help," he whispered, sounding on the verge of tears.

Howard, shocked at the emotion in Vince's voice as much as he was by the lack of a comeback, turned to face him, his eyes full of guilt. "I'm sorry, Vince, that was uncalled for."

Vince shrugged, still not looking up. "S'ok."

"No, it's not." Howard took Vince's chin in his hand and tilted his head up so he could look at him. "I'm sorry," he said again, his voice full of sincerity.

Vince offered him a small smile in return, which was quickly replaced with a frown as Howard shivered. "You should get in the back and get changed before you catch a cold."

Howard was about to agree that that was a good idea, when something caught his eye. "Vince, is that a house over there?"

Vince peered out of the window, the rain blurring his view slightly, and saw, partially hidden behind some trees, the house Howard had spotted. "Yeah! Hey, Howard, do you think they'll let us use their phone?"

"Only one way to find out, little man," Howard grinned, moving to open the door. "Wait here."

"What? Why?"

"I just thought you might not want to get wet."

That was true. Vince _didn't _want to get wet, but he didn't think it was fair that Howard was already soaked and willing to go back out there while he just sat there. Plus, he didn't want to be left alone on this, quite frankly, creepy country road. He told Howard as much, and so they left the van together, Vince gasping as the icy rain hit his skin and stung his eyes. Grabbing his torch, Howard locked the van, and they made their way across the quiet road and climbed over a wall into a muddy field. Vince looked around him warily as they walked, clutching onto Howard's arm as they neared the trees.

"I hate woods; they're scary."

"It's not really a wood, Vince, is it?"

"It's dark, so it's bad enough," he replied, raising a hand to his face and pushing his dripping hair away from it.

They sped up their pace, at Vince's insistence, mud splashing up their legs and leaves falling from above and catching in their hair. Finally, they cleared the trees, and what stood before them made them stop and gasp. The house wasn't just a house, but a large manor, all grey stone and gothic looking and very imposing.

"Wow. It looks like a film set."

They walked towards the door, Vince feeling a little better as he was swept up in the grandeur of the place, which was captivating even through the terrible weather.

"Howard?"

"Hmm?"

"I don't think anyone's in – there's no lights on."

"Maybe they're asleep."

Vince gave him a funny look. "It's only just gone nine. Maybe they're out."

"God, I hope not." Howard shivered and reached out to grab the large knocker on the front door, but as he banged it down, the door creaked open. Howard jumped back, expecting someone to be behind it; but no one showed. Taking the lead, he pushed the door open and slowly stepped inside. "Hello?"

Vince, who was still holding onto Howard's arm, looked around him warily, a feeling passing through him that he didn't at all like. "Howard?"

"Yeah, Vince?"

"I don't think anyone lives here."

"What makes you say that?"

Vince gestured around them, and Howard eyes widened slightly as he took in the entrance hall. It was rather grand, with a staircase and a patterned stone floor, an old wooden seat covered in red velvet and a tall, intricately carved cupboard. Paintings in gilt frames hung on the walls, mostly showing landscapes and flowers, and a small, ornate looking table held a vase of roses – except, they were all shrivelled and very clearly dead, and everything Howard had laid his eyes on was covered in dust and cobwebs. Spying a light switch on the wall, he flicked it, not surprised when nothing happened.

"I don't like it."

Howard turned to Vince and smiled comfortingly at him. "Hey, little man, it's all right. It might just belong to someone very... messy." He didn't sound convinced. "Let's have a look round, see what we can find."

Either side of the hall, and right at the end of it, were doors leading into different parts of the house. Howard opened the nearest one and popped his head round it, his eyes adjusting so he could make out a couple of sofas, a coffee table, and a bookcase. Lots of bookcases, holding lots of books, all looking like they could do with a good clean. Howard shut the door.

"I think I found the library."

"And?"

"Pretty much the same state as out here."

They checked out the rest of the manor, Vince becoming more and more freaked out as the house quickly began to look like it had been abandoned in a hurry; toys were strewn across a play-room they came across, and plates were laid out on the dining room table with the remains of rotting food stuck to the once colourful china. A few broken bits of furniture were scattered about, and Vince had noticed an upturned desk with what looked like scratches underneath it. Scratches, he was certain, that were made by human nails.

"Howard, can we go back to the van?"

Even as Vince asked that, a plan was forming in Howard's head. "Listen – this house is empty, right? So wouldn't it be more sensible to spend the night here than in the van? Then in the morning we can go and find help. There must be a village nearby somewhere."

Vince shook his head, eyes to the floor. "I'd rather not. This place isn't right."

"Vince," Howard started, gently, "I know it doesn't look good, but if anything _did _happen here, it was obviously quite a long time ago. I've got some provisions in the van that I can bring back here, stuff to light a fire with. We'll be warm here, and I know you'd rather that than freeze in the van, eh? Come on, I'm not going to let anything happen to you, am I?" He put an arm around Vince's shoulders and gave him a comforting squeeze, leading him over to an old sofa that was sat in the middle of the living room they were currently in. He sat Vince down, then straightened and said, "stay there. I won't be long, and when I come back we can get changed and get ourselves warmed up."

"You're leaving me on my own?!"

"It won't be for long, I promise. I'll run, if need be. Look, we haven't got much of a choice. You'll be fine, all right? You've got music on your phone – why don't you play that; It'll make you feel better."

Vince stared up at Howard pleadingly, but he knew it was no use. Howard was right, of course, and was only doing what was best for them. He let him go, then huddled up on the sofa, shivering and listening out for the slightest noise which could possibly pose a threat to his safety. After a few minutes, he decided to take Howard's advice and turn on the music player on his phone. Scrolling through his playlist, he selected 'Together in Electric Dreams', and let the music wash over him as he trembled from the cold. He wished they'd just stayed at home. Neither of them had been particularly enthusiastic about the gig, but they'd both realised that the money would come in handy and had grudgingly thrown together some songs and set off. Vince ran a hand through his damp, tangled hair; he wanted to cry. He was cold, miserable, wet, scared, and a part of him was panicking that Howard wasn't going to be coming back. Of course, his fear was unfounded, because ten minutes later Howard reappeared, clutching their overnight bags and dripping water all over the floor, frightening the life out of Vince by walking through the doorway at the exact same moment a flash of lightning bolted across the sky, which lit him up eerily and made him look like a ghost.

"Woah there, little man – it's just me."

They both changed quickly, rummaging though their bags and putting on almost every item of clothing they'd packed in an effort to warm up. Howard then moved across the room and picked up a wooden chair.

"What are you doing?"

"We need wood for the fire. I'm going to have to break this up." He did it swiftly, the noise making Vince wince slightly, then he grabbed some matches from his bag and his latest copy of The Global Explorer, and took them over to the fireplace, crouching down and laying his torch, which was tucked under his arm, on the floor in front of him so he could see what he was doing as he cleared out the grate before placing the wood in it. Then he reached for his magazine. Vince noticed what he was about to do and stopped him before he had the chance.

"Wait!"

Howard turned to face him. "What?"

Vince grabbed his copy of NME and sat down next to him. "Here, use this – I've read it."

"But you never get rid of your NME magazines," Howard said, looking at Vince as if he'd been switched with someone else.

"I know, but you haven't had a chance to read yours yet, so you shouldn't have to burn it." Vince started tearing up the pages of his magazine and throwing them on top of the wood before Howard could begin to protest.

Secretly, though, Howard was touched. With everything that had gone on recently, this was the last thing he expected Vince to do. He smiled. "Thanks, Vince."

Vince returned it happily. "No problem."

After a couple of false starts, Howard finally got the fire to light, and they both sat there watching as the flames took hold of the paper, the edges curling and burning away, the wood smouldering and slowly catching alight.

The rain continued to pour, crashes of thunder joining in with the lightning and shaking the earth.

In the trees behind the house, something moved.


	3. Something Out There

**A/N: Thanks for the great reviews I've received so far, and sorry for the wait on this next chapter. I had a bit of trouble with it, because nothing much happens – it's just build up at the moment!**

**xxxx**

Vince yawned and pulled his knees up to his chest. He and Howard had spent the last hour or so chatting on the sofa, trying to take their minds off of their situation. It had felt just like old times, when they were back at the zoo and spent the night shift talking about anything and everything. Now, they were starting to wind down, the fire making them sleepy. Howard watched as the flames danced in Vince's eyes, his face warm and glowing, such a contrast to the bleakness of their surroundings. Then Vince's stomach rumbled, and Howard chuckled.

"Hungry?"

Vince glanced at him sheepishly. "A bit."

"Yeah, me too. I think I've got..." Howard reached over and pulled his bag onto his lap. "Ah-ha!"

"What on earth's that?" Vince enquired, pulling a face as Howard took the lid off a Tupperware box.

"They're just sandwiches, Vince."

"Yeah, but what's in them?"

"Ham, cheese and pickle."

"Oh! I don't mind that."

Howard rolled his eyes and held the box out to Vince. Vince grinned and took a sandwich, biting down hungrily on the brown bread. They sat in companionable silence as they ate, taking occasional sips of water from Howard's flask and wincing as the thunder continued to rumble and the lightning flashed through the window. Vince seemed to be more at ease now, Howard noted, and he was pleased, because the last thing either of them needed was to get hysterical when they were stuck in the middle of nowhere, with no way of contacting anyone and no... Howard decided it wouldn't be healthy to continue that train of thought. He needed to remain calm and focus on being proactive. Even so, it took him a while to realise that Vince was talking to him.

"Howard? Howard."

Howard shook his head. "Sorry, Vince."

"You all right?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking."

Vince smirked. Howard slapped his arm.

"What did you want, anyway?"

Vince hung his head slightly, his face flushing. "I, um, need to use the loo, but I don't want to go on my own."

Howard smiled. "Come on, then. I think there was one just up the hall."

As soon as they left the living room, they both began to shiver.

"Oh, I think I want to go back," Vince whined, trying to turn back round. Howard put a hand on his shoulder and gently pushed him forward, using the other to switch on the torch.

"You're not peeing in the living room."

Vince grumbled and wrapped his arms around himself as he stumbled along. The wind was blowing through the house, making the building creak eerily, and Vince jumped every time a flash of lightning lit up the corridor, the shadows looking grotesque as they crept along the walls.

"This should be it," Howard said, stepping forward and pushing open a door. It swung open noisily. "Go on, then."

"Promise you won't leave?"

Howard smiled gently. He wasn't used to seeing this side of Vince. He was usually cocky and self-assured, waltzing through life and its ups and downs with ease. Feeling a sudden rush of affection for him, Howard reached out and squeezed Vince's arm. "I promise."

Satisfied, Vince gave a small, somewhat embarrassed smile back, and pulled the door closed behind him. There was a window directly above the toilet, and he could see that out the back of the house the trees were far denser. He looked away, humming as he relieved himself to stop his mind running wild with speculation as to what could possibly be out there. When he'd finished and zipped himself back up, it took him a while to work out why the toilet wouldn't flush before his brain kicked into gear and told him there wasn't any water. He frowned slightly, looking up from the handle of the toilet and turning to leave, but as he did, his eyes caught sight of something at the window. He cried out, stumbling backwards, then all but screamed when he felt hands on his shoulders holding him steady.

"All right, it's okay! It's me!"

Vince spun round, his eyes wild, nearly knocking Howard over in his haste to run into the hallway. Howard, who had burst into the toilet after hearing Vince's cry, turned and ran after him, shouting out for him to stop. He eventually managed to grab hold of him, having no choice but to pin him against the wall to keep him still. Vince was breathing heavily, his eyes wide and skin as white as snow.

"Vince! Calm down. What happened?"

Vince swallowed heavily, and when he spoke his voice came out as a terrified whisper. "There's something outside."

Howard frowned. "What do you mean? What did you see?"

"I-I don't know. I just... All I saw were these two red dots, like eyes. We have to leave, Howard. I want to go home! Please, please take me home," Vince whimpered, clutching onto the front of Howard's jumper. He looked like he was about to cry.

Howard put a hand to Vince's cheek in an attempt to calm him down. "Hey, come on, now. I'm sure it was nothing. Are you sure you weren't looking at the sky? It could have been lights from a plane."

Vince shook his head roughly. "I'm not making it up!"

"I know, I know – I never said you were. But Vince, there's nothing here – just you and me. You're fine, and you're safe. Come on, let's go back to the living room, it's freezing out here. I'll put some more wood on the fire and we'll try and get some sleep, okay?" Howard pushed Vince's hair away from his face and smiled reassuringly at him as he pulled him away from the wall and led him back towards their only source of heat.

--

Howard seated Vince back on the sofa and then busied himself with breaking up another chair, chucking the pieces onto the dying fire. He watched as the flames started to grow again, then turned back to Vince, who was huddled as tightly as he possibly could be into the corner of his seat, head buried between the arm and back cushion. Howard went and sat down next to him, placing a hand on Vince's knee. "All right, little man?"

Vince didn't move, but he spoke, his voice muffled by the cushion. "It wasn't a plane. It was right in front of me."

Howard leant over him, giving him a back-to-front hug. "How about you try and get some sleep and I'll keep watch."

Vince turned his head to look at him. "But what about you? You're tired too."

"Me? Nah, I'll be fine."

"You've been driving all day."

"Yeah, well." Howard went to pull away, but Vince reached a hand round to stop him.

"Don't. It's comforting."

They locked eyes, and Howard nodded in understanding. It wasn't something he was used to, but if it made Vince feel better then he wasn't going to stop. He did, however, need to get more comfortable.

"Just let me shift us a bit."

Vince let Howard pull him up, Howard putting an arm around Vince and pulling him into him. Vince rested his head against Howard's chest, an arm clasped around his friend's waist, snuggling as close as he possibly could.

"Better?"

"You don't believe me, do you?"

Howard hugged Vince tighter. "I don't know if there's anything out there, but I believe that you believe you saw something." How could he not, when he could feel the slight tremble of Vince's body and hear the shake in his voice.

But Vince was still sceptical. "Do you?"

"Of course. I know when you're lying, Vince – I've known you long enough."

That seemed to satisfy him, and he closed his eyes, not seeing Howard's look of concern. Howard glanced over to the window, watching as the wind whipped the rain and leaves against the glass. In truth, he'd been feeling slightly apprehensive all along – who wouldn't in their situation? But he never really believed that anything bad would happen. It was all psychology, anyway. They were stuck in the middle of nowhere in an abandoned old house during a storm – of course their minds were going to play tricks on them. Not that Howard's was going to let his get the upper hand, but Vince was sensitive, and had also probably seen one too many horror films. God only knew the sorts of things his mind could conjure up when panicked, and Howard was determined to keep him as calm as possible, which meant that he had to keep a completely level head.

xxxx

Vince mumbled in his sleep and tried to roll over, moaning when he couldn't. Howard looked down at him, the corners of his mouth tugging up as he saw the indignant look on Vince's face. He moved his arm so Vince could turn, but as he did Vince woke up, blinking up at Howard blearily and looking slightly confused.

"Okay, little man?"

Vince turned his face to bury it against Howard, muffling his words slightly as he spoke. "I was hoping this had all just been a bad dream."

"'Fraid not. But the storm seems to have moved away, and it's stopped raining."

"Oh, well in that case I guess everything's fine," Vince grumbled, sitting up and folding his arms across his chest.

Howard sighed. "Vince..."

Vince looked at him, his face softening. "Sorry. I know you're doing your best. How long was I out for?"

"A couple of hours," Howard said, looking at his watch. "It's just gone one."

Vince laid back against Howard, his head resting against his shoulder. "Do you... Do you think something really bad happened here?"

"Vince, don't. You'll just end up freaking yourself out."

"But, it's as if everyone left in a hurry, like something chased them out..." Vince's voice was barely a whisper, and he was now clutching Howard's arm, his eyes darting about the room anxiously.

"Vince, stop it. There's nothing here, okay? You _have _to stop thinking like that – it won't do you any good." Howard squeezed Vince's hand and looked at him reassuringly. "I'm not about to let anything happen to you, am I?"

Vince smiled, and was about to speak when a dripping sound caught his attention. Looking up above the window he could see - as well as the fact that it had started to rain again - that water was seeping through a crack in the ceiling. He watched as it splashed against the wooden floor, little droplets bouncing back up before settling.

"We should put something under that." Howard started looking around him, getting up and walking about the room. He soon gave up. "I'm going to see if I can find a bucket."

Vince jumped up, looking nervous. "On your own?"

Howard smiled at him fondly. "Want to come?"

xxxx

They finally found a bucket in the kitchen under the sink. Vince, feeling a little better, started going through the cupboards and drawers to see what he could find.

"Vince, what are you doing?"

"Just looking."

"I don't think you'll find anything interesting in the kitchen."

"You never kn- Ooh! What's this?" Vince withdrew his hand from the draw he was searching. Howard's eyes widened and as Vince clocked what he was holding, he instantly threw it down onto the counter. "A gun?!"

Howard moved forward next to him and they both stared down at the pistol. "Who keeps a gun in the kitchen drawer?"

"Do you think it's loaded?"

"I dunno. Maybe."

There was a bang from outside and both men jumped, spinning round to face the window. Howard put his hand on Vince's shoulder.

"It's just thunder – the storm's coming back."

Vince was breathing heavily, his eyes trained on the window. "Howard?" he whispered, voice trembling.

"Vince, it's okay..."

"There's something out there."

"There's... Vince, there's nothing there, honest -"

"No! I saw it!"

"Saw what?!" Howard cried, starting to get panicked. He screwed up his fists and took a deep breath. "Vince, what was it?"

"I-I don't know. It was like a shadow." He pulled on Howard's sleeve. "Can we go now?"

Vince was breathing so fast that Howard was afraid he'd hyperventilate. "I'm sorry, Vince, but you know we can't. Tell you what – I'll go outside and have a look, just to put your mind at rest, okay?"

"What?! Howard, no, please -"

"It'll be all right," Howard said, moving towards the back door. As he did, he reached his hand out to the side and picked up the gun.

"Howard!"

"Stay there."

Vince grabbed Howard's arm and tried to pull him back. Tears teetered on the edge of his lids, and the closer to the door they got, the harder they threatened to fall. Howard reached out for the door handle.

"Howard, don't, please! It's probably locked anyway!"

Howard pushed the handle down. The door opened easily, the wind banging it back against the wall. Howard stepped out slowly, one hand behind him to keep Vince back, the other holding the gun in front of him – not that he had any idea how to use it, but how hard could it be? Point and shoot, right? Anyway, it wasn't like he'd be needing it. "Vince, stay inside," he said quietly, as he stepped out onto the patio, which was overgrown with weeds and grass, instantly getting soaked as the rain pummelled into him. He held the gun out in front of him, finger trembling against the trigger, telling himself it was only doing so because of the cold.

"Howard!"

Howard whirled round. "Vince, get back inside – you'll get soaked!"

Vince reluctantly did as he was told, and about a minute later, jumped and cried out when he heard a gunshot.

**xxxx**

**Reviews are love!**


	4. Blood On The Walls

**A/N: Sorry this update has taken so long. I've had a bit of a block and I've been exhausted lately, so I haven't really had the energy to concentrate on it. So, saying that, I'm not sure how good this chapter is, or even if it's that scary, but it'll be better next time! I don't know if any of you thinks this, or if it's just me, but to me a quilt and a duvet are the same thing. I've always called it both, so I'm sorry if the changing between the two words confuses anyone! Thanks for reviewing – I've been very pleased with the response!**

**xxxx**

"Howard!" Vince ran out blindly into the driving rain, towards the direction of the gun shot. He tripped through the wet grass, slipping on the mud and nearly falling flat on his face. His heart was hammering painfully against his chest, the cold air making his jaw ache as he ran towards God knew what, all the while repeating in his head; _please don't let him be dead. Please don't let him be dead_. "Howard!" His voice cracked and a sob worked its way up his throat, hot tears stinging at his eyes, a sharp contrast against the freezing rain that was drenching him. He was just about to round the side of the house when he was grabbed from behind. Screaming in fright, he spun wildly, coming face to face with -

"Howard!" Vince threw his arms around Howard's neck and sobbed into his shoulder. "I thought you were dead!"

"Shhh," Howard soothed, hugging him back, slightly shocked at Vince's reaction. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to frighten you – I thought I saw something and... It was nothing. Come on now, let's get back inside before we freeze." Well, that was sort of true, but Howard wasn't going to tell Vince he'd ended up attacking a tree after one of its branches had brushed against his hair. He felt Vince nod against him, and he gently but quickly led him back inside, sliding the lock across on the door and grabbing the bucket, walking them both back through to the living room. Vince was shivering violently, and Howard wasn't much better off himself – he'd have to go up to one of the bedrooms and take the blankets from the bed. The clothes they'd taken off when they'd first entered the house were drying where Howard and put them in front of the fire, and he knew they'd still be damp. He put the bucket under the leak and then took the gun from his pocket and placed it under the sofa. "Vince, sit down – I'll be back in a minute."

"What? Where are you going?"

"I'm just going to get some blankets. We're out of dry clothes. Get those wet ones off."

"But..." Vince sniffed and shivered, looking up at Howard through his wet fringe. "Don't leave me."

"Vince..." Howard pulled the smaller man into a hug, shuddering as his wet clothes were pressed closer against his skin. "I'll be as quick as I can. Get your clothes off, quickly now before you catch a cold."

Vince allowed himself to smile slightly. "That's got to be one of the worst chat-up lines I've ever heard."

Howard laughed. "Ah, there he is. I'll be back in a minute, okay?"

The smile left Vince's face, and he nodded, eyes downcast. Howard squeezed his shoulder and then left quickly, not wanting to leave Vince alone for longer than necessary. Howard was scared at how terrified his friend was, and was very worried that he would lose it, out here with no help, where Howard would be able to do nothing but hold him. The house's atmosphere was quite obviously having a psychological effect on him, and Howard wasn't sure he'd be able to pull Vince completely back from it without removing him from the problem, which wasn't exactly possible at that moment in time. He hurried towards the stairs, taking them two at a time and going into the first bedroom he came across, which seemed to be the master one. Howard's eyes rested on the wardrobe, and he briefly considered looking through the clothes in there, but it felt a bit creepy to do so, so he left it and set about pulling the covers from the bed – one blanket and one duvet.

--

Vince looked up as Howard came back into the room. He was sitting on the sofa in just his boxers and socks – which were thankfully still dry - feeling a little bashful, which certainly wasn't like him at all. Howard smiled softly at him and passed him the duvet, then stripped off his own clothes and wrapped the blanket around himself. Vince looked down at his quilt, looking a little guilty.

"Why do I get the thicker one?"

"You need it more than me – you're smaller," Howard said, coming to sit next to him on the sofa.

Vince didn't look convinced, and was even less so minutes later when he saw Howard was still shivering. He budged up closer to him, unrolling part of the double duvet and throwing it over Howard.

"Vince..."

"Shush. You're shaking like a washing machine on spin."

"I'm fine," Howard said, pushing the duvet away from him and back onto Vince.

Vince sighed, and pushed himself against Howard instead, throwing an arm over his stomach and burying his face against his chest.

"Uh, what are you doing?"

"Warming you up. Deal with it."

Howard didn't argue. He was willing to let Vince do anything if it made him feel better. He relaxed into the sofa and let his eyes drift shut, Vince's weight on him warm and comforting. He vaguely acknowledged that the fire would need seeing to again soon, but then he fell asleep before he could give it another thought.

Vince looked up as he felt Howard's breathing even out and his body relax, feeling apprehensive now he had no one to talk to. He thought about trying to sleep himself, telling himself that the sooner he did, the sooner day would come and everything would be okay again. But it didn't work, and he clung to Howard anxiously, his body starting to tremble as his hearing picked out every creak and strange noise that the old house made. Tears leaked from his eyes, and he sniffed and wiped his face against the quilt. Needing more comfort, he pushed himself up and pressed his face against Howard's neck. The bigger man stirred slightly, and Vince held his breath as he waited for him to settle again. He moved his head slightly and watched him for a while, the peaceful look on his face helping Vince to focus, to fight the urge to lose it completely. Howard sighed in his sleep, and Vince gazed at him fondly before settling himself and pulling the duvet tighter around him.

xxxx

Howard yawned as he stumbled, half asleep, to the bathroom, his blanket tied around him. As much as he hadn't wanted to move from the warm cosiness of the sofa, his bladder was full to bursting, and Vince's arm digging into it hadn't helped. Howard had had to move him carefully so as not to wake him, and had left the smaller man sprawled across the sofa with the duvet wrapped tightly around him.

Howard shivered as he stood over the toilet, the iciness of the house quickly seeping back into him. It wasn't until he turned to leave that he noticed something was very wrong. He froze, his blood running cold, his breath quickening as his stomach started to churn. On the wall, written in what he was sure was blood, were the words 'we're here'. Tripping forwards, he ran back to Vince. He felt sick, and his skin was burning even though he was freezing. It might not have been an emergency at first, but now Howard didn't need any persuading to call the police. Thing was, he really didn't want to panic Vince, but he had no choice – he couldn't hide it from him, and as he ran towards him, an immense guilt welled up inside him. He'd almost managed to convince himself that Vince had been seeing things. And now these... whoever they were, were really here, and could be anywhere. God, they could be with Vince! He sped into the living room, and came to a sudden halt as he clocked Vince standing rigidly in front of the sofa, duvet held loosely around him as he stared at the wall above the fireplace. Trembling, Howard followed his gaze, and saw, just like in the bathroom, words written in blood. Words which said, 'you will die'. Howard spun round and shut the door, and, moving faster than he ever had before, pushed a heavy looking wooden cabinet in front of it. He was in no doubt that whoever had done this was still in the house – the speed they'd moved at to do all this was inconceivable, and he knew then that there must be more than one of them. He ran over to Vince, who was still staring up at the wall. He stepped in front of him and put his hands on his shoulders, feeling him shake violently under his touch, tears of fright rolling down his face.

"Vince. Vince, look at me."

It took a moment for Vince to register what Howard had said, and then he slowly moved his gaze to him, his eyes wide with fear.

"Vince, listen. I'm not going to let anything happen to you, okay? I'm going to call the police and they'll be here in no time."

"We're in the middle of nowhere," Vince whispered. Then he broke down and sobbed, his knees buckling. Howard caught him and pulled him over to the sofa, hugging him tightly. "I don't want to die," Vince choked, gasping in huge lungfuls of air.

"Stop it. No one's going to die, do you hear me?" He pressed a kiss to Vince's head and reluctantly pulled away from him so he could grab his phone. Howard frowned. Vince's mobile, which had been lying on top of the coffee table, was gone. Swallowing the lump of dread rising in his throat, Howard moved over to his bag, where he had earlier placed his own mobile in the side pocket. It wasn't there. Panicking, he frantically searched it, tipping out its contents and growling in frustration. Then he paused, and pressed his face into his hands.

Vince looked at at him fearfully. "What?" he asked, sobs still wracking his body.

"Vince, did you take my phone from my bag?"

Vince shook his head.

"Did you move yours from the coffee table?"

Again, Vince shook his head, the look on his face one Howard hoped he would never, _ever_, have to see again. Then a thought occurred to him, and he practically threw himself onto the floor in his haste to get under the sofa. His hand hit something metal, and he clasped it tightly, a temporary relief washing over him as he felt the gun in his hand – it hadn't been seen. Getting up, he placed the gun on the coffee table within easy reach, and sat back next to Vince, trying to do his best to comfort him, even though inside he was about ready to pass out from shock. But he had to be strong – he _had_ to be. Stroking a hand through Vince's hair, Howard gently shushed him, whispering into his ear. "Vince, you know I'd die before I let anything happen to you."

Vince pulled back and looked at Howard, horrified. "Don't say that! I don't want you to die! Don't do anything stupid, Howard, please! Promise me!" he pleaded, hiccuping as he spoke, his voice high and petrified.

"All right, all right," he said, rubbing Vince's back, their foreheads pressed together. "Look, remember all those times we've been in trouble before? Naboo saw it and came to our rescue. He'll come."

Vince looked up at him, eyes shining with tears. "Howard, Naboo doesn't see everything. He didn't know that time we were stranded on that desert island, or when -"

"Vince, please. You don't know he won't find out about this. This is... it's completely different to anything that's ever happened before. He'll know, I know he will. We can't just give up, okay?"

Vince nodded. "I'm sorry," he sniffed, his breath catching in his throat.

"Hey, don't be." Howard wiped his hand over Vince's face to clear his tears.

"Why am I still alive?"

Howard paused "What?"

"Howard, someone, or _something_, came in here while I was asleep. Why -"

"Don't." Howard put a finger to Vince's lips, his hand shaking. "I don't care why. All I care about is that you're here with me now, alive."

Vince gently took Howard's hand and pulled it away from his mouth. "I heard this noise, this sort of... I dunno, I was still half asleep; but it woke me up. For a moment, when I saw you weren't next to me, and I saw the wall... I thought you'd been taken. And when you came back, at first I didn't think it was you, then I realised a killer wouldn't bang clumsily about like that." Vince smiled slightly, and Howard's mouth tugged upwards briefly. Losing themselves for a second, they simply stared at each other. When Vince spoke again, it was barely more than a whisper. "Howard, I -"

_BANG!_

Vince shrieked at the noise, and Howard quickly put a hand over his mouth to shush him. They stood there shaking, the sound of their breathing loud in their ears as they listened. Something was being dragged across the floor of the hall, something heavy and scraping. Then, it stopped. Quietly, Howard told Vince to get dressed, and the two of them grabbed their now dry first set of clothes from where they had been laying in front of the fire. Vince didn't think he'd ever dressed so fast in his life, but a minute later he was stood next to Howard again, clutching his arm. Howard had the gun in his hand, and they stood, staring at the door, waiting. Howard tried desperately to control his breathing – he could hear Vince practically hyperventilating next to him, his fingers digging hard into Howard's arm.

Neither of them realised in that moment that they'd been tricked, and as they concentrated hard on the door, the window on the other side of the room shattered.


End file.
